


Spontaneity

by sallyamongpoison



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Piercings, Tongue Piercings, mention of needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6787660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallyamongpoison/pseuds/sallyamongpoison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Samson decides to make a change, and Cullen reflects during the act.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spontaneity

“Remind me again why you want to do this?” Cullen asked as he shifted in the hard plastic seat that sat just to the side of the very clinical looking table. Maker only knew that maybe it was some cast off from a doctor’s office or something else that was pretty damned sketchy. It certainly looked like it was sketchy, anyway.

From where he sat on the table, legs dangling over the edge and kicking just a little, Samson grinned, “Because,” he answered, like it was the simplest thing in the whole world. Maybe it was. Samson had a tendency to do a lot of things ‘just because’ and while Cullen had never really understood it, the sentiment anyway, he appreciated it. The man was spontaneous where he certainly wasn’t.

Which was how they’d ended up in a tattoo parlor in Darktown at eight at night on a Wednesday. It wasn’t any kind of special day, not really, but an hour ago Samson had come in the living room and told Cullen to grab his keys. Another adventure, Cullen had figured, and he wasn’t disappointed. The place looked a bit like it hadn’t had a health inspector in since maybe the last Age or so, but this was the place Samson had picked. He wouldn’t be swayed.

_ And give you a chance to talk me out of it? Don’t think so. _

So...Cullen watched as Samson leaned back on his arms and waited for the attendant to come by. All the paperwork had been done, which Cullen looked over Samson’s shoulder as he’d filled it out: no metal allergies, no heart conditions, no other health issues. The man was healthy as a horse for all he didn’t look it, but three years off the Dust would do that. Now he had the faculties to do all the things for any reason he wanted instead of it being as a means to get a little bag of glowing blue Dust. Samson looked calm, calmer than Cullen would be, but this wasn’t exactly Samson’s first time.

The Maker knew Samson had piercings through his eyebrow, lip, and through his right nipple. This one was one that Cullen was surprised the man  _ didn’t have. _ Though Cullen didn’t quite understand the joy of having metal shoved through the skin, he did understand the addiction to a bite of pain here and there. He had the tattoos to show for it. There was something addictive about it, about the pain at the time and the slight burn of the healing, and this was his lover’s addiction of choice.

All things considered, this wasn’t a bad one to have. 

Then the attendant was there, a blonde girl elf with ears filled with hoops and studs and lips and nose with hoops in. She was grinning, though, and sauntered over with the kind of confidence that only came from someone who had done this a million times both to herself and other people. Without a word she grabbed up a pair of gloves from a box on the wall and kicked over a rolling chair so she could plop herself down in it, then pulled the gloves on. It was all easy grace and something that Cullen couldn’t quite put his finger on. Bravado, maybe, with how she propped one leg up on the table and looked up at Samson.

“You know how all this goes, yeah?” she asked. Her accent said Denerim, but the attitude was all Kirkwall. 

Samson nodded, “Clamps and a needle,” he answered, “go for it.”

So she nodded and turned to pull out the multitude of little sterile packets that it took to do this kind of thing, and before Cullen could blink an eye she was on her feet and in front of Samson. She practically swayed as she hummed a tuneless kind of song, and when she moved away there was a pair of what looked almost like barbeque tongs hanging from Samson’s tongue. He grinned, winked at Cullen, and sat up a bit straighter so he could rest his hands in his lap. For a moment his dark eyes betrayed that low level of nerves that always seemed to happen right about the time that the hot needle would be going through a portion of his skin. It wasn’t panic, not really, but more a bit of concern for someone being so close to him.

Cullen had seen those nerves right up close in those first few months together, but now they were close with little issue. They’d both had that, the skittishness about them both about letting someone in that personal space. But then it was gone again, and Cullen watched again as the elf pulled the needle from the sterilizer, and she was in front of Samson again.

“Breathe in,” she instructed, and Cullen could hear that sharp intake of breath.

Then nothing for a moment. He held his breath too, waited, and after a bit of fiddling the elf moved away and Samson looked just a little sorrier. Samson slouched a bit, moved his jaw around, and they both watched as the elf cleaned up the packets and set to the last bits of getting things taken care of.

A stud. A stud in the man’s  _ tongue _ . Cullen let out the breath he’d been holding, and just...watched. He watched and chuckled to himself, then leaned back in the chair as aftercare and everything was discussed and they were sent on their way. Fifteen minutes and it was done. Spontaneity indeed. Cullen might have thought it ridiculous once upon a time, but now it was as normal to him as getting up in the morning.

After they’d paid and left, Samson reached out and took Cullen’s hand as they headed for the car. They didn’t do that kind of thing often, but Cullen did appreciate it. Public affection wasn’t really their thing, but Cullen did crave that closeness every now and then. It had to mean Samson was hurting a bit if he was reaching for him now. So he squeezed that hand in his own and looked over at him. He wasn’t supposed to eat anything for a while, though he did look just a little bit sad. Between all the cleaning and everything else he’d be doing for the next while, Cullen could only imagine he’d be feeling a bit sorry for himself. 

“When do you want to try this baby out, then?” Samson asked, though his speech was a bit slurred and thick for the swelling in his tongue.

Cullen rolled his eyes, “They did say none of that for the first couple of weeks, you know,” he teased, “bet you didn’t think of  _ that _ when you decided to do this, what, this morning?”

“Yesterday,” Samson drawled, though it sounded rather funny for how his speech was impeded now. He was apparently pretending not to notice it. “And fine, play by the rules. Goodie boy.”

He rolled his eyes again and leaned over to kiss Samson’s cheek, “more like I don’t want it to get infected because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“Not my pants I want things out of, Rutherford.”

Maker help him, but a few months later Cullen was half considering getting one himself.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr! @sallyamongpoison


End file.
